


Rain

by thebriars



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: It's 2 am i need to sleep, John's death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:10:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11296974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebriars/pseuds/thebriars
Summary: There's a bullet in John's side.Does he care?





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> it's literally 2 am so pls excuse any grammatical errors

The rain didn’t feel cold anymore. 

John had been standing in the rain for so long that it hardly registered. He was numb. He couldn’t feel his cheeks or his fingers and, in all honesty, he didn’t want to. 

He met the redcoat’s eyes- cold gray against warm amber- and smiled. John Laurens, cocky to the end. His knees hit the ground and his hand found his side. Pain echoed across his body and John cried out for Alexander. 

But no one was there. 

John had hoped endlessly that times might change and that he and Alex could be together. That they could spend warm evenings walking through the city, hands clasped. John had built a world in his mind in which not a single person even glanced their way when they shared a chaste kiss. _As if._  

Alexander could shape palaces with his words. John had only his thoughts. 

But the other part of John made him try and be rational. 

How could he and Alexander continue their relationship when they no longer had a private tent to share and the blessings of wartime? As much as John wanted more time, he knew that is would be simpler for him to die. Eliza was far too wonderful a person for Alexander to cheat on. Neither man’s conscious could permit it. And it would be nearly impossible for them to ever have time to themselves. 

This could not work in the future, so they had to stop. He had to end it, as much as it tore his soul.

No, it was easier to John to die, because the young country needed Alexander Hamilton. John Laurens could join the ranks of the fallen- yet another name for history to forget- but if America was to survive, Alex had to survive as well.

Maybe that was why John threw his fellow soldier out of the way. 

Maybe that was why he took the bullet. 

Maybe that was why John Laurens, for once in his life, didn’t strike back. 

John fell in the wet grass, one hand clasped to the wound and the other sinking into the mud. He coughed, crimson blood blooming at the corner of his mouth. 

He thought of Martha and Frances and the broken family he was leaving behind. 

He thought of his dreams and ambitions and of the visions he saw for the country. 

But most of all, John thought of the one person who made him feel like the king of the heavens and yet humbled him to the merest crumb of humanity. 

John Laurens died with Alexander Hamilton’s name on his lips. 

The locals later combed the battlefield, looking for any valuables they might exploit. They passed over each body and rummaged for anything salvageable. 

Indifference was the lovechild of violence and familiarity. These people were full of indifference. 

However, they gathered around one body in the field that seemed different. This body nearly made them care. 

His freckled face was soaked in blood and coated in earth. His legs were folded awkwardly beneath him and his hand was pressed into the bullet wound that ended his life. But he was smiling. 

This man was content in death. 

They stared down at the remains, united for a brief moment in grief for the loss of a life so young and vibrant.

Not a single person stole from that body.

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever just mourn long dead founding fathers
> 
> I certainly dont


End file.
